Cessation
by SuperNatural1985
Summary: Malcolm wasn't dead and Jeremy was the only one left ignorant of the fact. Here he decides what to do with the information.


I own nothing except some original characters I sometimes bring in. Kelley Armstrong owns The Otherworld and all the wonderful information there.

The canvas wasn't speaking to him, sometimes it did and sometimes it didn't. Sometimes he saw exactly what he would do and in that world he would lose himself for hours forgetting to make dinner, take care of the kids or check on the time. Schedules flew out the window and he used so much paint he often ran out before he finished. This time the paints sat unused and the canvas kept its original stark white.

It was not how these sessions usually went. When he finally had time to himself, time to step away from being the alpha and from the children, he wouldn't waste a second of the precious few hours. Jeremy gave a small barely audible sigh and set down the brush that had been cramping his hand for hours.

Who knew why the inspiration was not coming this time. Normally he had only to look at his other painting, his pack and family before, as Kate often put it, "the magic happened". No magic was happening today despite his magical blood.

Jeremy paced to the window that over looked the back yard watching Kate and Logan race around the obstacle course Clay and Nick had made for them. The children were active but not in the way normal children were. Setting up a swing set and slide would not amuse them for long or at all. They would both give their parents a piercing look that asked if they were two years old. Instead Clay and Nick had designed a harder obstacle course including large tires to jump through and a large wooden platform with a climbing wall and rings to hang off of and propel themselves to the opposite side. It had the added advantage of tiring them out especially if Reese and Noah were chasing them across it and getting a little exercise themselves as they were doing now.

"You little ankle bitters are plodders today," Reese grinned grabbing Kate and tickling her side. She shirked and fought him trying to get away and he eventually let her.

"Kid's and slow," Logan called from the top of the climbing wall. The boy enjoyed translating Reese's Australian slang and Reese enjoyed challenging him. Noah called that Logan had gotten it right and watched carefully as he hauled himself onto the platform from the climbing wall. Noah knew better than to help him, he hung back but he was there in case Logan needed him.

Jeremy turned away from the window and walked back to canvas staring at it and trying to make it dispel its secrets. Instead he saw and let the thoughts that were at the back of his mind fully in to examine them. His father was alive, had been alive a few months beforehand. Nick had killed him on Elena and Clay's orders. He hadn't known. No one had told him a thing. As an Alpha that was unacceptable but as a father it hurt. He was more hurt than he had been by his children than he could remember in the past.

He was not an unreasonable man and he could understand why they wouldn't want to tell him. To Jeremy Malcolm represented fear and anger as much as he felt these things. His father had made his childhood a living hell. He could never really be a child even with Edward's protection he was still always looking over his shoulder afraid to pretend and get lost in magical worlds when he was around. When Malcolm wasn't around he was always worried about him coming back. Reading and drawing in secret was easier so he could keep his ears open and be on the lookout.

Thinking about Malcom brought back such a flood of memories that he could not repress them all; Malcolm appearing in the middle of the night when he was three and scaring him so badly he had nightmares for days and didn't want to sleep unless he was with Edward, Malcolm making fun of him for whimpering or crying when he hurt himself or had a bad cream at six, Malcolm killing someone and blaming it on him, telling him it was his fault at nine and Malcolm ridiculing him at fourteen for still being a virgin when Tonio had clearly dominated in that field since he was the same age. Malcolm only represented bad memories for him. There was no times when he could say that Malcolm gave him fatherly advice or acted like the man Jeremy was supposed to look up to and emulate.

He hadn't noticed his fists were clenched and his body was tight. He forced himself to relax and focus on the present. There was no help for him in the past and he couldn't change anything but he could use this knowledge to think about the problem. Why had Elena and Clay lied to him? Was he not the parent here? The Alpha? He should have known. He should have made the final call even if Elena was his Alpha elect.

He had known about Malcolm and what had happened for a few weeks now but he had been sitting on it. Thinking about it and deciding what he wanted to do with the information. He could confront Clay and Elena and ask why they would have kept this from him but he knew them well enough to know the answer.

They hated Malcolm as Jeremy did and they didn't want to hurt him. Jeremy saw himself as a normal man who did the best he could for the people he loved but they saw him as something different, something he didn't think he was. Saviour and father, Alpha and friend. He was only comfortable with a few of these terms.

Saviour; he was not anything close to this. Clay argued that he was because he was the only one who would have saved him as a child, brought him and turned him into a good person. Without Jeremy Clay would have died or been killed by Malcolm or someone like him. Elena contended that without Jeremy she would have died as well. No one else would have as much patience as he did, take as much care and be so forgiving. They both said that without him their children would not be here. Without Jeremy, Antonio swore that he and Nick wouldn't be here or wouldn't be the same. It was too much weight on his shoulders. Too much to bear.

Father; he was Clay's father even if Clay never called him a father. He raised Clay and Clay considered more than a friend, Alpha and pack mate. Elena, who had never had a real father after her biological one died, considered him a father as well. The children knew he was their grandfather though like Clay they only ever called him Jeremy. He was never comfortable with any title besides Alpha.

Alpha; this was a title he was comfortable with. He willingly fought for the title and won and he whole heartily believed that he was the best choice for Alpha. He had brought the pack into the modern world and ensured its survival. He got rid of ancient customs, and disallowed things that would guarantee the more technology savvy and watchful world would discover them.

Friend; this was the title that fit him most. He had always been Antonio's friend, his best friend despite the age difference and in everything he did he tried to be neutral, everyone's friend. When it got in the way of his Alpha duties he was no longer a friend but he always went back to this part of his being, always. Antonio was there constantly reminding him about what it was to be a friend, a best friend he could trust his life to and he would give his life for.

He was all of these things at one time or another even if some of the terminology or scenarios he didn't quite agree with. This brought him back to the original line of thought. He was angry that they had kept this from him, annoyed, frustrated even which were feeling that he didn't often entertain with any significance. Ultimately they did it for him and not because they thought him weak or unable to handle the situation which would have been untrue and would have rankled. They did it because of the memories it would have brought up and the mood it would have inspired in him.

Malcolm was the reason he painted and remolded the rooms in the house dozens of times a year, the reason he was so loyal and defensive when it came to his loved ones. The ghosts he could not banish in this home and from his memory sparked untold learned behaviors, behaviors to protect himself learned in childhood and had never been unable to change.

When he glanced at the canvas again he immediately saw lines and a picture forming. He stood and grabbed a pencil moving the white space letting his hand guide him and immediately decided his next move. He would not speak to Elena and Clay about this. Malcolm was dead and Nick, who would no doubt be incredibly proud of killing him for Jeremy, would instantly feel like he had done wrong. They had done this for him. The least he could do was let them have this one.


End file.
